


Domestic X-Factor

by haisai_andagii



Category: All New X-Factor, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, X-Factor (Comics)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Other, douglock - Freeform, gamquick, quickbit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-07 03:44:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3159956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haisai_andagii/pseuds/haisai_andagii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of "domestic" or "down time" fics of the Serval X-Factor team.  There are crab cakes, jealousy, vibrators, snickerdoodles, and laughter.  Sometimes in that order; sometimes all at once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fishing

**Author's Note:**

> For "cerebrosbeofrehoes" (tumblr) - Luna really wants to try sushi, but Pietro HATES sushi (for whatever reason). So, Remy offers to take her out, and so Luna and Remy bond, and Pie is annoyed, probably.

The whale shark and her calf swam through a school of tuna causing them to scatter.  Even with their massive, imposing girth, they swam gracefully as they looped around their enclosure.  Several manta ray flew by, their fins like wings, as the sailed around the prodigious pair.  It was like an endless dance - rhythmic, serene.  
  
"Woah…" Luna’s eyes grew large as she watched them float past.  "Dad, do you think these whales are related to the Acanti?"

"Possibly," Pietro answered tenderly. "That’s a very good observation, Lu."  He smiled down at her as Luna wrapped her tiny arms around his waist.  The calf nuzzled against its mother as they glided together through calm waters.

"Pietro?  Pietro, where are you?!" came a frantic voice from Pietro’s comm device.   It was Lorna.  With a sigh, the speedster pressed the pin on his shirt collar.

"We’re in Okinawa, Lorna," he returned, not bothering to hide his irritability.  "I have taken Luna to see the Whale Shark at the Okinawan Prefecture Aquarium.  What is it?"

"You are in Japan?!" she asked, her voice a mixture of alarm and annoyance.  "Pietro, I don’t care how fast you are, you are not authorized to leave the country for a simple day trip!  Warlock and Doug have been made and they need back up. Drop Luna off at the nearest Serval safe house and meet up with us. I am sending coordinates for both now."

He felt his Serval phone vibrate and his heart sank.

"I am sorry, Luna," Pietro said, lifting his daughter into his arms.  She wrapped her arms around his neck as they walked rapidly toward the exit.  "But we must go."

"Oh, I was hoping we could have some of that, um, ‘soo-shee’ stuff…" she replied, her eyes sad but understanding.  She pulled her oxygen mask from her inner coat pocket and slipped it on.

"It’s ‘sushi,’" he corrected her as he broke into a run.  "And perhaps another time.  Right now, Aunt Lorna needs me."

"But, Dad!"

"Hold tight," he said, ignoring her protest.   They picked up speed and raced out across the Pacific.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"No," Pietro grumbled, knocking out a guard and sending another one flying. "It’s bad enough that the Japanese are depleting the world’s salmon population without the ocean being over-fished enough as it is. 

"Come, cher," Remy purred as he adjusted an unconscious Doug his broad shoulders.  He then tossed a charged card into the door’s electronic lock.  It combusted and he kicked it in.  "There are other kind ‘side salmon.  A few pieces o’ sushi ain’t gonna hurt her.  Let her try it."

"It’s expensive!" the speedster groused, disarming another round of oncoming guards.  He dismantled their guns before shoving them into a utility closet.  He ran after Gambit once he and Doug slipped through the door.

"It’s delicious!" Gambit shouted at Pietro when he caught up.

"It’s slimy!" the speedster protested, taking Doug from him and shifting him over his shoulder before looping his other arm around Gambit’s waist.

"It’s got dem Omega Fatty Acids!"

"And loads of toxins!"

"It’s a cultural experience!"

"But not the only one.  And a culture cannot be defined by its cuisine alone!"

"But it’s the best steppin’ stone to learn ‘bout one!" Remy countered.  "If you don’ take lil’ Lu-Lu, Remy will!"

Pietro grunted and sped away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Luna stepped out into the common area.

"Oh, Luna, you look so pretty!" Georgia cooed.  Luna gave a little twirl, letting her skirt fan out for all to see.  She wore a lavender sundress, forest green cardigan, white leggings, and black Mary Janes.  Her hair had been pulled into a french braid that swooped to the side and had been tied off with a bejeweled lavender bow.

"Auntie Lorna bought everything for me! And she even did my hair!"

"Is that make-up?" Pietro hissed at his sister.

"It’s Barbie lip gloss, Pietro," Lorna returned snidely.  "Calm down.  Look at how happy and beautiful your daughter is…"

"This is how it starts," he muttered darkly.  "First, make-up.  Then, a Summers brother or an idiot robot husband."

Lorna rolled her eyes.

Remy appeared wearing his best suit and tie.

"Wow," Doug commented.  "You really clean up!"

"A gentleman gotta look his best for his lady!" he crowed.

"Do not make this creepy," Pietro seethed.  "I will hurt you.  Be back no later than 10pm or I will come find you."

"10pm?  I dunno, Pietro," Remy said, his face writ with mock concern.  "Luna might wanna do body shots at Hooters by den and if she anythin’ like her Pa, she can drink.  So, let’s make it at least 3, so we can swing by da Waffle House too."

Pietro looked like a dark cloud.

"Ugh, don’t tease him," Lorna chided as she ushered them toward the door.  "We’ll see you both later." 

Luna waved goodbye.  Gambit took her hand and escorted her out.

"Ok," Lorna asked as soon they were out of earshot.  "What the hell is your problem, Pietro?  Luna is really excited about this and you’ve been fighting it from the start!"

"She is _my_ daughter,” he fussed. “She shouldn’t be running the streets with charlatans and ne’er-do-wells!”

"You’re jealous!" cried Georgia. "That’s so cute!"

"Also, who talks like that?" Doug asked.  "This isn’t England 1882, Quickie…"

"But _I’m_ her father,” he protested, a slight quaver in his normally biting tone. “I should be taking her out and showing her the world…”  He broke away from them, stalking off in the direction of his room.

"Oh, Pietro…" his sister said softly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pietro’s fears came true.  Luna returned home from her date with Remy and promptly insisted they go on more, which of course the swamp rat was more than happy to comply.

The movies.  Museums.  The arcade.   Bush Gardens.  Jumbo slice runs to DC.  Otakon in Baltimore (with everyone else but him).

Trip after trip chipped away at Pietro’s heart.  In return, he threw himself harder into each and every mission.  He even ran deliveries for Serval’s clients during his free time.  Anything to get away from a Remy’s smugness.

"You’re her father," Lorna reassured him.  They had just destroyed an AIM facility nestled in the Carpathians.  She smiled and took her cup of tea from the stewardess.  "Luna will always love you.  She’s just exploring the world."

"But not with _me_ ,” Pietro grumbled. “Whatever.  As long as she is happy.”

"It’s nothing personal.  Earth is fun!  And everyone here has a different, exciting experience," his sister said comfortingly.  "She’s just enjoying herself outside of that stuffy Inhuman Royal culture, ya’know?  She’ll come around."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pietro closed his eyes as flopped onto he couch and nearly melted into its cushions.  He worked himself to the point of absolute exhaustion.  Linda had informed him that he had been put on mandatory bed rest and was not to leave the suite for 48 hours.

"Dad?"

He cracked open a bleary eye and found Luna holding a dvd case.

"Linda gave me an advanced copy of _Annie_ ,” she said, her tone hesitant. “Um, wanna watch it with me? I put it in earlier…”

"I thought you were going out with Douglas and Warlock to the language museum," he asked her, pulling himself into a sitting position.  "Don’t you like your trips?"

"Some of them are fun.  Some are just ok," she answered honestly. "I usually go out with the others because you haven’t been home lately until today because you’ve been working so hard…" She looked down, digging the toe of her foot into the carpet.  "So, can we…?"

Pietro smiled brightly.  His weariness faded away.  He moved over to make room as Luna climbed next to him, wrapping her arms around his as she leaned against him.

"Oh, wait a second!"  she clambered off the couch and ran off.  She came back a few minutes later with a sizable box.  "Linda helped me order these!"  She placed the box onto the coffee table and opened it.  Luna pulled out an over-sized whale shark plush and placed it in his laps  "I got one for you and one for Mom!  And I got the baby for me!" She produced a smaller version, which she clutched tightly against her beaming face.

"Thank you, Luna," Pietro murmured, his heart fluttering fast.  He swallowed thickly as Luna rejoined him. "I love it."


	2. Shamash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For "magicalgirlwandamaximoff" (tumblr) - Lorna Dane celebrating her first Hanukkah since converting to Judaism.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I am not Jewish (culturally and/or religiously.). So, if I get something horribly wrong, please let me know. Lorna is more “American reform Jewish” than conservative or Orthodox. The Twins are not-very-observant Jewish-Roma in this story.
> 
> That said, someone get their grandma to make me some sufganiyot, please.

"We’ve never really celebrated much before," Wanda’s lilting voice sing-songed over the phone. "We grew up in Transia and Chanukkah was not a such a big ordeal there as it is in America, Lorna."

"Oh, but I want us to celebrate at least the first night all together," her sister begged. "It’ll be my first one as a newly made giyoret.  Please come…"

"Of course, I will come and support you!  Ah, but Pietro…"  They both knew how incredibly anti-social her twin could be.   

"Tell him Kitty is making sufganiyot with cinnamon sugar and five spice apple compote.  And Ben Grimm made his famous wine-red braised short ribs!"

"Oh, Ben’s ribs are amazin-AH!" Wanda yelped.  Lorna could hear faint sounds of struggle and some swear words in Romany, and then, her brother’s voice thundered over the line:

"I’M IN."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Luna and Tommy stared down at the pink plastic object in Billy’s outstretched hand.

"It’s a dreidel," Billy explained. "You spin it and depending on the letter it lands on, you win, lose, or just get no gelt - chocolate coins.  The last one standing gets the pot."

Luna bounced on her toes.

"I wanna play!" she cried, shaking her netted bag of gelt as she hopped in place.

"Hear me out, Billy," Tommy proposed. "Can we divide the chocolate evenly between the three of us and watch ‘The Hebrew Hammer’ on Comedy Central instead?" 

His twin looked like he wanted to punch him in the face.

"I’ll play with you, Billy!" Luna exclaimed, dumping her chocolate onto the floor. "And I am gonna win too!"

"Oh, no you won’t!" shouted Tommy, his competitive side coming alive. "Dreidel me, bro!"

Billy rolled his eyes.

Wanda fondly watched them from the buffet table .  She gently nudged Pietro in his side, who was busy scarfing down ribs and scowling at everything.

"Ah, remember when we used to play with Mama?  She would always take your pot and you’d start crying…"

"I have never cried in my entire life," Pietro replied, piling more latkes, ribs, and salmon onto his already overstuffed plate. "And don’t talk about Daj like that."

"You cry all the time!  You just cried on the way over here about Ben’s cooking," Wanda said exasperatedly.  "You cried yesterday because you thought you saw a bee in your room!"

Pietro said nothing as he wolfed down his plate with an indifferent shrug.

Wanda rolled her eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later, when their bellies were full and the sun was setting, Kitty called everyone to the living room to light the Menorah.  Wanda took the twins hands and pulled them into side long hugs.  Luna sat her Dad’s shoulder, firing off a thousand questions that he only could answer with equal speed.  Ben adjusted his yarmulke rocky crown.

"Let’s light this thing!" Tommy shouted. "I haven’t gotten to Mom’s kugel yet!"

Pietro slapped him upside the head.

"Well, now that we’re all here," Lorna started. "I think one of the men should light the-"

"Lorna should do it," Ben said, his tone gruff but affectionate as he cut her off.  "You should light the foist candle."

Lorna turned as red as a tomato.

"B-but maybe Ben or Billy or Pietro s-should-"

"Oh, tradition, shmadition!" Kitty interjected, clapping her friend on the shoulder.  "You studied so hard, Lorna, and we’re all very proud of you!"

She swallowed hard as Billy pressed the Shamash into his aunt’s hand.

"Well, if it’s alright with everyone."  Kitty handed her the prayer and Ben lit the candle.

Lorna hands trembled, her throat felt tight and the room started to spin.  She shut her eyes, trying to calm her frayed nerves, when something warm encircled her hand.  Lorna opened them and found she was flanked by Pietro and Wanda, their hands steadying her own as it held candle.  They smiled down at her.  Lorna smiled back. Taking a deep breath, she said:

"Baruch Atah Adonai, Elohenu, Melech Haolam…"


	3. A Growing Concern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lorna tries to get some “alone time” for herself but her teammates, various crises, and those cats keep interrupting her!
> 
> NSFW. Nudity. Masturbation.

Lorna had been living in a wasteland devoid of satisfying dick for too long.

Douglas was too young.  Remy creeped her out.  Pietro was her brother.   Warlock was a robot (and she thought it best to leave that sort of thing to her big sister.).  Alex Summers could go eat a dog’s dick as far as she was concerned.

_Alex._

She rolled over her and grabbed her phone from her nightstand.  Lorna opened her contacts.  Her thumb hovered an entry in the middle of the pack:

_Fuckboy.  
_

Had she become so desperate, so depraved that she would reach out to the man who betrayed her?  To a man who hurt her so deeply that he actually drove her insane?

She snarled and hurled the phone over her shoulder, clenched her legs together, and rubbed her thighs across each other like a cricket. 

Lorna stared at the nightstand intently.  Slowly, she reached out and rested her fingers on that drawer’s handle.  The brass was cool but did little to sooth her overheated body.  She yanked it open and reached inside and pulled out her vibrator.

It was not anything fantastic.  Smooth, cylindrical, and in her signature green.

Lorna did not need too many frills.  She loved to let her imagination take over and fill in the gaps, the imperfections.  Perhaps that was the same survival tactics she often employed with her years with Alex.

Lie to yourself until you love it. 

She held her breath, searching for the sounds of movement other than her own.  She craned her neck, eyes searching for any signs of light coming from crack underneath the door.  It was Friday but it was nearly midnight.  Remy had left hours earlier to hunt for good bourbon and good company.  She heard Doug telling Warlock that Danger had gone with him too.

And speaking of her little “omniglot,” he was surely snuggled tightly in Warlock’s cybernetic embrace.  She briefly wondered if the two of them would dream in zeroes and ones.

That left her beloved niece and brother.  Normally, Pietro would have Luna in bed by no later than ten.  But since it was the weekend, they were sure to have posted up in the den to watch some family friendly movie.

Lorna felt guilty.  She wanted nothing more than to rub one out but her niece was probably just down the hall singing “Let It Go” with her father.

"Ok, Lorna," she muttered to herself, trying to drive away her guilt. "Fantasy #23: You’re a space pirate Amazon and you’ve captured yourself a live one from Andromeda Galaxy…"

She turned the dial to its lowest setting.  Nothing.  She shook it.  Nothing.  She slapped it.  Nothing.  She reached over and wrenched on the lamp.  Lorna twisted off the bottom of the vibrator, letting four heavy rechargeable batteries plop into her lap.

They were completely dead.

She cradled them in her hands and, with a bit of concentration, ran an electromagnetic current through them.

She could feel them, thrumming back to life.  Lorna quickly slid them back into her vibrator, twisting the bottom of it closed with almost a manic smile.  She slid the switch again and this time, her vibrator whorled into action.

"Y-y-y-y-e-e-e-s-s-s-s…." she purred, holding it against her cheek.  "Y-y-you ar-r-r-e m-m-m-ine n-n-n-ow S-space Exp-p-plorer J-oa-a-achim-m-m…"

And then, her bedroom light flickered on.

"Auntie Lorna?" Luna asked as she barged through the door.  "Do you have the TV remo- Oh, what’s that?"  Lorna froze like deer in the headlights, the vibrator still held tightly against her rapidly blushing cheeks.

"Luna?" Pietro called from down the hall. "Does she have the remote controller or not?"  Lorna felt the cold sweat running down her back.  She could hear him padding toward her room. 

Lorna yelped and scrambled towards her nightstand drawer.  The sheets twisted around her legs and she fell over the edge of the bed, clipping her shoulder on the nightstand and toppling onto her head.  Lorna landed on hard on her back, the air knocked out of her.  She groaned, turning her now throbbing head toward the door and saw, with horror, that her vibrator clattered across the floor and landed at her niece’s feet.

Naturally, Luna picked it up. 

"It’s moving!"

"What’s going on? Are you two alri-" Pietro stood in the doorway, his concern fading into a mask of calm that Lorna knew all to well.  "Luna," he said evenly. "Please give that back to your Aunt and go back to the den."

"But, Dad, it’s so cool!" she protested. "Why does Auntie have such a funny toy?"

"Luna, it’s not nice enter others’ rooms or  touch their things without permission.  Go wash your hands and get us some sodas and I’ll be right behind you." 

The girl pouted and handed the vibrator to her father.  Pietro took it by its bottom, holding it away from him between his pointer and his thumb as Luna scampered back to the den.

"She just barged in on me and I panicked and I dropped my vibrator and she picked it up! I-I-I-"

"We will never speak of this again," her brother said slowly.  He crossed the room and set Lorna’s vibrator at the foot of her bed before helping her up.

"I am sorry!" Lorna gasped.  Pietro smiled.  It was hollow and Lorna did not want to know what lay underneath.

"About what?" he returned calmly.  Pietro clasped her injured shoulder.  Lorna winced as he gave it a squeeze.  "Perhaps, when engaging in such human but very normal, necessary, and healthy activities, we remember to lock our doors, shall we?"

Lorna nodded weakly.  He let her go, and, slowly, walked out, shutting the door firmly behind him.  She dashed to it, turning the lock closed.  Lorna gasped and sank to the floor, her hands shaking and tangled in her green hair.

"Daddy," she heard Luna’s voice through the door.  "What’s a viber-gator?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Lorna returned from a mission briefing to find Pietro left a note for her on the kitchen table.  He and Luna wanted to take a trip to Appalachia and would not be back until Sunday evening, giving Lorna “free reign of the house.” 

Gambit, Georgia and Danger just had been deployed on a special assignment.  Doug and Warlock were working in R&D with Dr. “Muttonchops” Wexler for the day.

Lorna was on reserve but other than that…

She sprinted to her room, ran inside, and locked the door.  Her uniform went flying clear across her desk.  Her boots thrown into her closet.  Her bra decorated the lampshade; her panties flung onto the ceiling fan.

She practically skipped to her bed when she caught a glimpse of herself in her standing mirror.

Lorna immediately swiveled it away.  She was a Dane - an Episcopalian, raised proper WASP (Despite her biological father’s genetic contribution).  Alex told her once that her vagina reminded him of a Red Canna - perfect symmetrical folds that could not be contained.  It was the most poetic thing he ever said.  It was probably the only poetic thing he ever said and he said it without thinking really. 

Either way, she just wanted him to put his stupid, handsome face in it and recite his poetry there.

Lorna stalked over to her laptop and flipped it open.  A few violent clicks and Beyoncé's “ _Rocket_ " started to play:

 _Let me sit this ass on you_  
_Show you how I feel_  
_Let me take this off_  
_Will you watch me?_  
_That’s mass appeal_  
_Don’t take your eyes_  
_Don’t take your eyes off it_  
_Watch it, babe_  
_If you like you can touch it, baby_  
_Do you, do you wanna touch it, baby?_

"Ok, Lorna," she said, her fingers ghosting long the planes of her stomach. "Fantasy #51: You’re a pioneer woman, your husband’s trapped in town ‘cuz of a blizzard, and that fur trapper you’ve been eying has stopped by to warm himself up…"

She skipped over to her bed.  Kneeling down, she reached underneath it to grab her recently relocated vibrator, when a grey, furry paw shot out and landed on her hand.

"YOW!"  Lorna shouted, falling onto her rump. 

Oliver crawled out, his yellow eyes shimmering with feline curiosity.  He darted out, twisting and turning himself between her sprawling legs. 

"Mrow?"

"What in the hell…" she muttered, scrambling to her feet.  "Fucking, Remy…’

Lucifer stood on his hind legs and resting his paws on her knee.

"Mrow!" he yowled.

"Hungry?"

"Mrow…"

Lorna sighed.  She trudged over to her door and unlocked it and stepped out into the hall.  Lucifer padded after her; he hopped a bit trying to keep up with her wide gait.  They entered the kitchen where they made a beeline to his bowl. 

Empty.  In fact, all three of cats’ bowls were bare.

Lorna wrenched open the nearest cabinet.

Nothing. 

So, she opened the one next to it.  Nothing.  Nothing.  Nothing.  Nothing.

"Idiot," Lorna groused. "Leave it to Remy to forget to pick up food."  She stalked over to the refrigerator.  She found several can of Fancy Feast in the vegetable crisper and the can opener behind the milk.  Rolling her eyes, she peeled the cans open and dumped one in each bowl.

Figaro and Oliver smelled food and came trotting out.  Three faces met three bowls.  They purred, their tails looping and swaying contently.

"Self friend Lorna?"

She froze.  A chill ran up her spine. She looked up and saw Warlock standing by the kitchen table.  He smiled at her - innocent, sweet - cocking his head curiously at her naked form.

_Fuck!_

"Why is Self friend Lorna not wearing clothing?"

Lorna tried to run but her feet were like cement.  She panicked, looking about for cover.  A baking sheet!  A spatula!  Dinner plates!  Anything!  She lunged and grabbed the nearest thing.

But it was too late.  Doug sauntered into the kitchen.

"What are you talking about, Lock?  Is Lorna is in the- JESUS CHRIST!" He darted behind the Technarch.

Lorna stood stock still, holding oven mittens across her naked body.

"For God’s sake!" Doug hissed, his hand covering his eyes. "Georgia uses those to bake us pies!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A simple recon mission resulted in disaster.  Gambit, Danger, and Georgia had been sent by Harrison to scout out a local branch of the Friends of Humanity.  Their leader had been seen socializing with a few Breakworldians in some of the seedier parts of DC, and there were rumblings of an anti-mutant alliance forming in the infant stage of their relationship.  

Money changed between human and Breakworldian hands and the FoH found themselves with a sizable stockpile of alien weaponry.

Gambit and his team were to find out what they had, how much they had, and how they planned to use it.

But what Serval did not know is that they had planned on them coming.

When Gambit, Georgia, and Danger had arrived, they fired upon them almost immediately.  Gambit took a laser blast to the shoulder as he tried to give them cover fire so they could escape.  Danger tried to shield Georgia and was hit in a localized EMP bomb.  She promptly fell over, pinning Georgia to the ground under her tremendous weight.

The FoH took them back to their headquarters where they argued for hours on what to do with their captives, while Remy slowly bled out.

And then, the roof was torn clean off of their hovel and sent flying into the Potomac.

Lorna descended on them like a demon straight from the depths of Hell.  If it was ferrous, it went flying.  If it wasn’t, something ferrous knocked it away and sent it flying.  She sent them scattering like roaches they were, straight into Warlock’s many, many arms.

They deserved every bit of hurt he doled out to them.  Lorna had to cut Fantasy #87 (“You’re a magical girl, you’ve just saved the love of your anime life, and he wants to show you how grateful he is…”) short because of them!

Her team was safe and whole again.  But Lorna could not help but sulk on the jet ride back.  She sat by Danger, watching as Georgia checked Remy’s IV drip and his bandages.

"Lorna," he groaned, struggling to sit up to look at her.

"What is it Remy?" she asked, chewing on her thumb.

"If you jus’ wanted ta rub one out, Lorna, you coulda asked Remy fo’ help, cher" Remy slurred.  "Or Danger.  Lord, know she thirstier den anything."

Everyone fell still. 

"W-what are you talkin’ about, Gambit?  You’re high as a damn-"

"I most certainly would have assisted you, Lorna," Danger cut her off.  "My previous offer for sexual relations remains in effect." "I told Remy that I detected an increase in your vaginal mucus levels.  There is even some traces on your fing-"

"I shouldn’t be hearing this," Georgia announced, interrupting the android.  She shut the lid to the first aid kit firmly. "I am a child."  She retreated to the jet’s galley.

And then, Lorna screamed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harrison cast Linda a concerned look over his tented fingers.

"So…" he started slowly. "You’ve corrected this oversight?"

"Yes, sir," Linda answered.

"The data-"

"If it was not anything that concerns our company, it’s been purged.  Data, metadata - gone."

"And the previous team-"

"Fired but set off with a lovely compensation package and an NDA that would have their great-great-great grandchildren wrapped up in litigation if the so much as sneeze…"

"Good… but it’s still recording, right, Linda?"

"Absolutely, sir."

"I mean, essentially, we see everything Ms. Dane sees… but I don’t-"

"I know, sir," Linda interjected. "Er, that’s why I suggested a two female member surveillance team from the start.  They will bring the more important matters to your attention and not the -uh- daily minutiae."

"Oh, good."  He sounded relieved.  It was genuine. 

Or at least Linda hoped.

"Let’s synergize here," Harrison said, leaning back into his chair.  "A happy leader means a happy team.  So, we help Lorna help herself.  I say we keep the other members busy for a while so she can…"  He made an abortive gesture; color creeping above his collar to his face.

"I understand, sir," Linda replied, her own cheeks reddening rapidly.  "I’ll get right on it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lorna lay on her back.  The carpet felt soft against her skin, as she watched the blades on her fan whirl around. 

There was a knock at her door.  Lorna sighed.  Slowly, she pulled herself up from the ground and walked over to open it.

"I just want to be alone, guys," she muttered, yanking the door open.

But there was no one there - only a sheet of paper taped to her door.  She pulled it off and read it.

_Memo_

_To: Lorna Dane_

_From: Linda Kwan_

_Re: Current Status and Schedule of Serval X-Factor Strike Team_

_Remy Lebeau -  Recovering in sick bay; cats have been relocated to aid in healing.  On one week’s bed rest.  
_

_Danger, Warlock, Douglas Ramsey - Escorting Danger to the X-Mansion in Salem Center, NY for repairs. Not scheduled to return until following Monday._

_Georgia Dakei, Luna Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff - Survival training at Greenbelt Park for 168 hours._

_Lorna Dane - On reserve until further notice.  
_

"Ok, Lorna," she said, clutching the memo to her heart. "Fantasy #77…"


	4. Crabby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy searches for the perfect Maryland crabcake. Shit gets really real.

"Bluestone, Bo Brooks, Corner Stable, Gertrude’s…?" Pietro flipped through a three page list Remy had given him.  "What are all of these?"

"Homes of the best crabcakes in all o’ Maryland, Pietro.  And you gon get one from each place."

"And what makes you think that?"

“‘Cause it Remy’s birthday and, in case you forgot, he did somethin’ very, very nice for you on yours. Somethin’ maybe you don’t want Lorna or Wanda findin’ out ‘bout, ya’know.  Might make ‘em feel away ‘bout you…”

The speedster licked his lips tentatively and said:

"Are you telling me, you ridiculous, bangee, Bayou manchild, that you are going to consume twenty-five entire crabcakes in one sitting?"

"Absolument, homme.”

"Do you what ‘heart disease’ is?"

Remy said nothing as he pulled his wallet from his jacket pocket and handed the man his credit card.

"We called them all about ten minutes ago, cher.  Best get goin’ before dey get sweaty."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Quel scandale!" Remy cried, pushing his plate clear across the table.  It slid to a stop in front of Doug, who quickly snapped it up in three bites.

"I thought it was good," he said as he licked at a bit of tartar sauce lingering in the corner of his mouth. "Kinda spicy!"

"Doug, you may know languages, cher, but you know shit about dese here crabcakes.  You can’t make no Maryland crabcake wit out no goddamn lump crab!" the Cajun hissed, slapping the table.  "Dat’s like beignets wit out honey and powder sugar… Phew!" 

Danger slid another cake in front of him.  Remy broke off a piece with his fork.  He turned it about, his narrowing as he scrutinized the size and dimensions of each piece of crabmeat before taking a bite.  He chewed methodically, his face scrunching up as he tried to determine the flavor and fullness of every ingredient.

"Dis trash!" he declared. "Cayenne as staler den day old bread!  Mon freakin’ Dieu!"

Another plate flew across the table, landing in front of Georgia who was more than happy to wolf it down. They were peasants waiting on the scraps from their insane, crabcake devouring king.

"Maybe you’re being too picky, Remy," Lorna said. "I mean, it’s just a crabcake."  Remy cast her a look so foul, she actually shrank down in her seat.

"Shush, woman!" he snapped. "Dat’s like me tell you geophysics is jus’ a pile o’ rocks!  You stay in yo’ lane, ya hear me?!"  He swung around in his seat and shouted at Danger: "Where da next one at?!"

"There are no more, Remy," she said evenly. "I suggest you calm yourself."

"I suggest you have a better answer."

The room collectively held their breath.  Doug looked like he might faint.

Robot and man narrowed their eyes at one another.

"He is being really aggressive about all of this," Georgia whispered to Warlock.

"Self agrees. Self is also a little afraid…"

Remy, eyes still locked with Danger’s, cleared his throat and said:

"A true Maryland crabcake must consist o’ da following:  fresh jumbo lump crabmeat; egg; handmade mayonnais; Dijon mustard (And none o’ da Grey Poupon mess!)-“

"He is going so hard," muttered Doug, as his teammate’s rant began to pick up in volume and speed. "I have never seen him so worked up…"

"-if you must use Old Bay straight, den get it straight from the damn factory!; fresh squeezed lemon; Worcestershire; Kosher salt; homemade white bread breadcrumbs-“

"He’s really passionate about this," Lorna whispered to Pietro. 

"-chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley; unsalted butter; and virgin olive oil!  And not a one o’ dese places got 25% of that right!”

"So, what’s the endgame here?" the speedster asked, his lips twisted up in a sarcastic sneer. "You gonna hold us all in servitude on some quixotic quest for the perfect crabcake?"

 

The Cajun stroked his stubble cheek thoughtfully.

 

"Oh, my god!" Lorna cried, her manicured hands covering her mouth in complete and utter shock.  "This fool is serious!"

 

"I don’t ask fo’ much, Lorna."

 

"Remy, you just asked me to fetch 25 goddamn crabcakes!" Pietro shouted. "Why are you lying to everyone as if I did not run all over the state of Maryland for you not just five minutes ago?"

 

"Enough!" Danger snapped, her voice resounding so strongly they covered their ears. "Pietro, please come with me.  We have some shopping to do."

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

They returned several hours later and confined Remy to his room.  He was not to leave unless they called for him. 

 

So, Remy fumed and stewed in his displeasure in his solitude.  Lucifer hovered by him but never close enough to be petted.  Figaro had tried and Remy was so rough with his delicate fur, he took refuge in the under the bed and would not come out for all the treats in the world.  Oliver perched himself on a bookshelf.  He was largely indifferent with master when he was in a mood like this.

 

When he was in the middle of blowing up his third deck of cards, when Doug appeared at his door.

"They want to see you in the kitchen."

 

He followed Doug like a man on the green mile.

 

"Sit down," Danger ordered no sooner than when he came in.  Remy complied and slipped into his seat.  She carefully set a beautifully crafted crabcake in front of him.  It was off set with artistic swirls of tartar sauce, parsley garnish, and a fresh lemon wedge.  It smelled heavenly and looked twice as good.

 

"Eat it."

 

Remy broke of a piece; glared at it; sniffed it; moved it around and around until Danger growled at him.  He hummed curiously and popped it into his mouth.

 

"I gathered data from the internet to find the freshest organic ingredients," she explained as Remy chewed. "We even pulled this crab straight from the Bay ourselves.  And I retained the human factor to it by having Pietro chop up and mix everything together after I carefully measured it out."

 

He swallowed.  His eyes grew as wide as his Nanan’s saucers.

 

“Jésus-Christ!” “C’est parfait!” 

 

Danger and Pietro exchanged smug looks.

 

Remy took forkful after forkful, bite after bite until it was all gone.  He then grabbed the plate and ran his tongue across, not caring as they watched on in horror.

 

When not a crumb was left, he set it down on the table with a dejected look.

 

"Not to worry," Pietro said, walking over with a whole baking sheet full of crabcakes.  "We thought to make more than one."  He slid it in front of the Cajun who practically pounced on them. 

 

Remy looked as if he would cry.

 

"Dis is da best birthday Remy ever had!"


	5. Oliver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver, one of Gambit's cats, wanted Pietro's toes for his own.

Oliver pawed at the pale toe protruding from bottom of the duvet.    
  
"Stop it," the lump hissed.  It wiggled, brushing against his whiskers when he pressed his nose against it.  He nipped at it, chewing on the calloused flesh.   
  
"Remy!" the lump cried, wiggling its toe again.  "REMMMYYYYYYYYY!"  
  
Oliver’s ear twitched at the sound of his master thumping down the hall.  He opened the door and padded over to him.    
  
"It’s chewy!" Oliver mewled excitedly.  His master smiled and scooped him into his arms.  
  
"You botherin’ Pietro, petit?"  
  
"He was trying to kill me…" groused the lump.  Two white antennae poked out from the top of the duvet, followed by the grumpiest human face Oliver had ever seen. "I am sick and your cat is trying to eat me alive…"  
  
"Aw, Oliver~!" cooed Master, tickling his fluffy belly.  "You meant no harm.  He just wanna make sure you still kickin’…"  
  
"I’ll kick him…" sneered the grumpy white-haired man.  "Right into a cooking pot!"  
  
Oliver scrambled up onto Master’s shoulders and hissed.  He settled down when the man stroked him between his ears.    
  
White hair was mean.    
  
He was always shooing them away from his morning cereal or herding them back into Master’s room when they worked so hard to escape.  He would scold his golden-haired offspring when she tried to pet him.   
  
Mean!  
  
"He’s mean!" Oliver protested.  He rubbed his face against the Master’s ear.  
  
"Ah, is Remy’s boy hungry? We get us some snack, eh, Petit?" Master stroked him again.  Oliver loved treats.  Maybe he would get some fresh tuna!  Can I get you somethin’ too, Monsieur Maximoff?"  
  
"Janija…" replied White-Hair as he slipped back under the duvet. "But don’t put your Cajun twist on it.  I want handmade bread too…"  
  
Master let out a low whistle.  
  
"At once your majesty," he said. "Oliver, let’s go call up Wanda so Remy get dis dish right and won’ have ta make you in Guangdong stew…"   
  
"Sounds like a plan!" Oliver purred.  Master chuckled.


	6. Figaro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Figaro ruins everything... including the mood between his master and his current mate.

Figaro rolled onto his side, letting the afternoon sun warm his full belly.  Master gave them slices of tuna fresh from the market.  Figaro licked at the salt lingering on his whiskers.  He purred rhythmically, contentedly as Master padded quietly around the room.

And then, he appeared. 

Figaro heard his Master gasp, followed by “You could knock you know…” and then several heavy footsteps approaching toward him.

 _Humans_ , Figaro thought to himself.  A shadow fell over him, stealing his sunshine away.  Slowly, he craned his neck upward.

"Did you do this, demon cat?" the white-haired one hissed, his teeth bared.  Figaro glanced at him.  The man was holding a piece of tattered cloth covered in his hair and his scent.  Figaro rolled onto his back.

"Oh, hey," he drawled. "It’s my blanket." The cat swiped lazily at a bit of fabric just out of his reach. "Like, give it back…"

"Remy!" the man shouted, causing Figaro to start. "This is the third sweater this month!"

"Come now, Pietro," Master soothed.  "Figaro a cat.  He ain’t know no better…"

"I don’t care!" he snarled.  "I bought this sweater for Luna for her birthday!  You need to keep them under control or…"  The human growled and threw his burden into Master’s face.  Figaro blinked and white-hair was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oliver had his head buried in his bowl as Figaro sauntered into the kitchen.  The scent of salmon wafted past his nose.  He trotted over to his bowl but found none.

"Master is cruel," he whined.  "He gave none to me…"

"You did something bad, Fig," Olivier purred, pulling his face out of his now empty bowl.  "You upset the white-hair and, even worse, his kitten!"

"Well, shit," the cat mewled.

"You gotta make this right," his brother replied.  "Or else no more fish for a while…"

Oliver left him.  Figaro sat hard on his haunches.

"Humans," he sighed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Maybe old grump-face will like this," Figaro thought to himself as he trotted proudly down the hall towards Master’s room.  He had seen them go inside an several.  "I went through a lot of trouble…"

He pawed the door open and slipped through.  He wrinkled his nose.  The air was heavy with the scent of arousal.  There was a large, slow moving lump on the bed. 

"Again," the cat complained to himself as he padded over.  "Master needs to be fixed…"

"F-Faster," he heard white-hair pant as he reached them.  Master chuckled.  The lump picked up speed.

Figaro leapt onto the bed, carefully walking around to the top.  Their top heads were peeking out from the top of the covers.  He set his burden down by their heads and pulled on Master’s hair with his teeth.

"Hey," he said as Master and his mate pulled back the blanket. "I am sorry about that sweater.  I got grumpy this as an apology."

They both blinked at him before their heads slowly turning to look at his offering. 

"Is that a dead mouse!?" white-haired shrieked.

"Oh, Figaro!  No!"

White-haired groaned and flipped them over.  He climbed off his Master and he vanished into the bathroom.

"What’s his problem?!" Figaro cried, resting his paw on top of the mouse. "I-I worked really hard on this!"  Master sighed.  He gently picked him up and held him up to his frowning face.

"Fig, mon petit," Master said softly. "We need ta talk."


	7. Remote Controlled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For "The Limping Doctor" (tumblr)
> 
> Wanda, Lorna, Pietro, and Luna argue about what to watch on a Saturday night with their favorite daughter/niece.

Shouts drowned out the never-ending drone of promotions coming from the Serval TV’s “On-Demand Guide.”

“ _If you like kung-fu dinosaurs-_ ”

"You want to watch Hellraiser with your seven year old niece?!" Lorna snapped, making a grab for the remote control in her sister’s hands.  "Are you insane, Wanda?"

“ _-and you love epic magical girl space battles-_ ”

"Hellraiser is a cinematic masterpiece!" Wanda shot back, pushing her little sister way with a bunny-slippered foot. "Clive Barker is horror genius!"

“ _-and believe in the power of mechas powered by puppy kisses-_ ”

"She’ll have nightmares!" the younger growled, slapping her sister’s foot away and reaching for the remote once more. "And we’re watching Beyonce’s 2013 animated summer blockbuster: EPIC!"

"Of course you’d pick slapdash CGI over a beloved cult classic," muttered the elder. "And besides, after living with Inhumans, Cortez kidnapping her, what my ridiculous brother has put her through, and the fact that Magneto is her grandfather, I am sure Luna can handle some colored-corn syrup and fake silicone guts!"

“ _-you and the whole family will love Mina and the Dino-Squad’s Magical Galaxy Mecha Melee for Puppy Planet!_ ”

"Oh my God!" cried her green-haired sibling.  "Give me the remote.  You clearly have lost your mind!"  Lorna lunged at her but Wanda pivoted out of the way.  She raised the remote control over her head with one hand and with the other, flicked a hex sphere at the pile of throw pillows lining the couch. 

They sprang up at Lorna, flying around her in a swarm of crushed velvet and yarn tassels.  She yelped, summoning the kitchen’s cutlery to her aid.  The sounds of screams, slashing, and fabric ripping filled the suite.  Pietro sped into the common area and skidded to a halt.  The entire living area was covered in feathers and cotton fluff; his sisters wrestling on the carpet.  Dumbfounded, he could only blinked at the the screaming pile of tangled limbs and verdant and auburn hair.

"Hellraiser!" Wanda howled as Lorna put her in a headlock. "80’s British Horror classic!"

"Epic!" Lorna screeched in return. "Queen Beyonce demands it!" Wanda sank her teeth into her forearm.  Lorna yowled in pain but refused to let go.

"We’re not watching either one of those films!" Pietro yelled, grabbing Lorna around the middle and pulling her off of their sister.  Using his speed, he set them both firm on opposite ends of the couch.  He wrapped Lorna’s arm before plucking the control from Wanda’s hands.

"Hey!"

"Hey, nothing, Wanda," he chided. "We’re going to watch the only movie worth watching!"  He disappeared and reappeared in a second.  With a smirk, he triumphantly presented a DVD to his sisters.

"Oh, Pietro…" his twin said mournfully.  "No, hun…"

"I’d rather have Gambit kiss me again," Lorna sneered.  "We’re not watching Fast and the Furious 3: Tokyo Drift."

"Clearly, neither one of you have taste."

"Clearly, only two of us in this room can read at grade level, if you think we were going to co-sign this mess…"

They dissolved into angry shouting.  Wanda shot up from her seat and slapped the DVD out of her brother’s hand with surprising speed.  Lorna cackled before the twins turned on her. 

"Who is Magneto’s real favorite? Me!  So, I say we watch Epic!" the youngest yelled.

"People who wear tiaras as part of their costumes shouldn’t speak!" the speedster snapped."Tokyo Drift is a masterpiece!"

"For someone who can think so fast, you make so many dumb choices, brother!" the Witch sneered. "Hellraiser!"

Luna sauntered out into the common room.  She glanced at the television and made a beeline to the remote laying on the carpet.  She shouldered past the herd of growling grown ups, climbed onto the couch, and scrolled through the movie listings.

"Oh, cool!" she said. "Mina and the Dino Squad have a new film!  Can we watch this, Daddy?"  The squabbling died away as they realized that Luna was in the room.

"Uh…er…W-well," her father stammered, his face red.  "Yes?"

"Nice," Luna replied.  She pressed the "Ok" button.  With a smile, she turned to them and said:  "The movie is about to start.  So, Aunt Wanda, go make popcorn.  Aunt Lorna, get some sodas.  Daddy, the room is a mess.  Please, clean it up."

With a collective sigh, each adult shuffled off.  Luna smiled, sinking back into the couch cushions.  She turned up the volume as her father sped about the room.

"Mina, Colonel Tyranno  has escaped and he’s planning on stealing all the smiles from the Corgi Kingdom!"

"This deserves an Oscar," Luna muttered to herself just as Wanda slid the popcorn bowl onto her lap and Lorna placed a fresh Sprite into her hand.  Pietro tossed a blanket across their legs before settling down himself.

"How do you even steal smiles?" Lorna whispered to her brother, picking a feather from his shoulder.  Pietro shrugged.

"Let’s find out together…"


	8. Uncle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team, except for Pietro and the Robots, has fallen to the scourge that is THE FLU. With his daughter sick, our Speedster is reluctant to leave her in the others’ care. But Luna might have a solution! 
> 
> Dad-feels, attack of the cutes, and Gambit is a giant man-baby when he’s sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For thegreatcastby.

 

 

 

 

  
Pietro paced back and forth behind the doctor as she examined his daughter. 

 

"It’s definitely the flu.  She’s running a bit of a fever," Dr. Williams said as she pressed her hands to the side of Luna’s face.  The girl sniffled, waggling the thermometer precariously between her lips.  The doctor glanced at her wrist watch before pulling it from her mouth.  She clucked her tongue.  "One hundred and four.  We’ll have to bring that down right away…"

Pietro rushed off before reappearing with several ice packs and small towels.

Dr. Williams took one and wrapped it carefully in a towel and rested it across Luna’s brow. 

"What else can we do?" Pietro asked.

"Wait," the doctor explained, as she began dig through her medical bag.  "But this will help."  She pulled out a bottle filled with a orange liquid.  There were several crudely drawn children scrawled in crayon beneath colorful bubble-lettering that said: Sr. Sniffleton’s Fever Serum.

Pietro twisted his fingers.

"Perhaps, I should contact Crystal and have her bring the Royal physician.  It’s nothing but personal but Luna is half Inhuman and Mutant-"

"-but ultimately human, Mr. Maximoff." Dr. Williams said gently.  "Serval has done extensive, humane research on all human sub-species - Inhumans included.  And I promise you that a children’s cold medicine will have no negative effects on your daughter."  She carefully measured out a spoonful.  Pietro helped Luna sit up and the doctor tipped the syrup between the girl’s lips.

Luna smacked her lips together, her face contorting in displeasure.

"It doesn’t taste like oranges," she fussed, pushing the doctor’s hand away she has she tried to give her some more.

"I know, sweetie," her father said softly.  "Just one more and I’ll get you some ginger ale."

Luna groaned.  She slurped up the rest of the syrup and wiped her mouth on her sleeve before falling back into her pillows.  Her father readjusted her cold packs.

"I have to check on the others," Dr. William announced.  She put away her implements and the medicine before climbing off of Luna’s bed.  "But I will come by once an hour to check on Luna and to make sure her fever is going down.  How is it you are not sick, Mr. Maximoff?

"Oh, I was," Pietro replied, dabbing at his daughter’s face with a cool washcloth.  "My immune system is like the rest of me - fast.  I had the flu for all of an agonizing fifteen minutes."

"Well, lucky you," the doctor said as she walked out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"X-Factor!" Linda hollered at the top of her lungs as she stumbled into their suite. "Mr. Snow needs the team right away!"

One-by-one they trudged out into the common area, looking very much like a collection of human misery.

Lorna’s vibrant verdant hair now resembled the color of old pea soup.  Her nose was red and peeling, her cupid’s bow full of snot. 

Douglas looked as if he had died and was re-animated yet again.  The bags around his eyes rivaled Domino’s markings in size and color. 

Georgia followed him, covered in a blanket and thin layer of sweat.  She looked like sleep was a concept she never quite grasped and her once bouncy curls now hung limply and plastered themselves to her damp head.

Remy stumbled in, swaying on unsteady feet.  His sun kissed skin was sallow. He was clad in his boxer briefs and a robe, hanging from his shoulders, as he muttered “frechofrechofrecho” under his breath.   His cats followed after him, mewling loudly and with great concern.

"You all look terrible…" Linda gasped, Remy bumping into her shoulder as he staggered past.  "How is this possible?  Everyone received flu-shots last week!"

"Well, they ain’t take, Linda!" the Cajun barked, before walking into the couch and flipping over the back of it.  His cats immediately piled onto his back as he groaned into a throw pillow. "Remy so tired and his body hurtin’!"

Lorna rolled her puffy eyes he started sobbing.

"Linba, w’re all ducked ub," Georgia struggled to explain.  She sounded like a trombone under water.  "Da only one dat can go is Pi-Pi-Pi-ACHOOOOOOOO!!!’

"Pietro,"Doug finished, wiping his nose with a tissue.  "And Warlock and Danger.  They are with Wexler in R&D…"

"Fine!" Linda cried, already running toward the door.  "I’ll get them.  Pietro, get ready to leave in 15!"  She scurried off, the clicking of her heels echoing in the distance.

Pietro raced into the common room and skidded to a stop in front his sister.  Lorna sputtered as her hair flew into her face.

"Was Linda calling me?"

"Bwe gob a misson, ‘Tro," grumbled Georgia as she joined Remy on the couch.  "Yoo gob go…"

Pietro huffed.

"I am not leaving my daughter!" he shouted, coloring rising on his neck.  "What if something happens to her?!"

Lorna growled and swept her tangled hair away.

"I can look after _my niece_!” she snapped, shaking her tissue-filled fist at her brother. “Serval has a million and one doctors and one of them is in there with her now.  And if anything, we can text Crys from her emergency cellphone.  So, suit up and get going!”

The speedster stomped his foot and sped away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pietro raced across the Atlantic, great arcs of water rising in his wake.  The mission was a success.  They managed to capture some Skrull who had disguised themselves as Congolese warlords in order to extort minerals and labor from nearby villagers.  Unfortunately for them, the mines and the villages they had been terrorizing were under Serval’s “protection.”

Eager to get back to Luna, Pietro punched his way through to the leading Skrull.  He kicked him, sending him into the air like a shot.  He plummeted into the river where Warlock fished him out before a hippo could sink its teeth into him.

As soon as the people were safe and their enemies escorted off by S.W.O.R.D agents, Pietro sped away, leaving Warlock and Danger to find their own way home. 

DC came into view after a few minutes. Pietro ran along the bay and up the Potomac, passing the Jefferson Memorial as he drove on toward Reston.  He made a quick stop at a 7-11 (The same one he and his sisters had terrorized during a recent outing.) to pick up some of Luna’s favorite snacks.

Linda was making her way through the lobby when she was knocked over by a gust of wind.  Security scrambled to help her up as she rolled across the floor.

"Damn it, Pietro!" Linda shouted after him as he slipped into the stairwell.

He bounded up to the top floor in a matter of seconds.

"Luna?!" Pietro called as he burst through the door and toward their rooms.  "Daddy’s back and I’ve brought you some-"

The speedster froze when he entered the kitchen and saw a man by the stove stirring something that smelled heavenly and extremely spicy.  He wore a scarf over his long black hair and an apron that said “Dude with the Food” on it.

"What’s up?" he greeted with a lopsided smile and a wink as Pietro padded toward him.  "You ain’t sick den like da rest o’ dem?"

"A-aren’t you-"

"I’m Jean-Luc!" he returned jovially.  "I’m Remy’s Pa.  We met dat time Nil stole y’all’s lady robot friend."

"Oh, I remember… But what are you doing here?"

"Yo’ sister called me and said my boy was sick.  Naturally, I come runnin’…" Jean Luc trailed off as he sprinkled some more spices into his pot.  He spooned some out and took a sip and then added some more before stirring it in.  "Remy ain’t never been good when he get sick.  Poor t’ing all fussy and helpless.  I made e’eryone my famous Guild gumbo and some hushpuppies."

"B-but… How? W-what?"

"It alright, Quickster!  I got plenty o’ help!"

"Help?"

A tendril of red hair wove itself around Pietro’s waist, hoisting him into the air.  He dangled mid-air, eyes wide as Medusa, the Queen of the Inhumans, stared indifferently up at him.

"Pietro."

"Your Majesty…"

Medusa’s lips twitched.

"Crystal was away on a mission with Gorgon and Karnak," she announced lowering Pietro behind her.  She strode into the kitchenette, holding a tray piled high with empty bowls and tea cup. "His Majesty insisted we come at once he learned his favorite and only darling niece had fallen ill and your work prevented you from attending to her…"

She sniffed indignantly at him, raising a slender brow.

"T-thank you," Pietro stammered, averting his gaze as he felt his ears burning. "I-"

Medusa held up her hand.

"What is done is done.  Go see your child.  We will be here."

Pietro nodded and rushed past them.

"You know him too, Mademoiselle?” Jean Luc asked once he was sure the speedster had gone.

"Unfortunately," she muttered, dumping the dishes into the sink.

"Paaaa," came a whine from the doorway.  They looked up and saw Remy standing there, his robe open and his boxer shorts hanging loosely on his hips as his cats circled his slippered feet like tiny, furry sharks.  "Remy hungry…"

“Dieu dans le ciel…” Jean-Luc muttered under his breath.  He turned the stove off and set the ladle aside.  Wiping his hands on his apron, he took Remy by the shoulders and steered him back to his room.  “Daddy will bring you some ice cream, cheri.  You need yo’ rest.”

"Remy want S’more with da bits of graham cracker in it…"

"O’ course, cheri.  Papa will get it fo’ you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Blackbolt cupped his left hand and with his right, clasped together his pointer and middle finger while using his thumb to pressed down his ring and pinky.  He rested two fingers in the palm of his folded hand, lifted them and pressed against his lips twice.

"No more soup," Luna replied with a small smile. 

Her uncle then loosely cupped his right hand.  He waved it up and down in front of his mouth.

"Yes, I would like some ice cream," the girl sniffled.  Blackbolt pulled out a fresh tissue from his cape pocket.  He held it gently against Luna’s nose as she blew into it. "Thank you, Uncle…"

Blackbolt he tossed the tissue away and gave her a thumbs up just as Pietro blustered in.

"Luna!" he cried, materializing at her bedside.  He dropped her treats on the bed as he touched her temples.  "Your fever broke…"

"Uh-huh!" she replied, her tone still a little stuffy but cheerful.  "Uncle took care of me when you were gone too!"

Pietro started when he realized that the Inhuman King had been standing beside him the entire time.  He tried to bow, knocking the top of his head into Blackbolt’s massive chest.

"S-sorry," the speedster sputtered.  "I greatly appreciate you coming here and looking after your niece IcannotimaginetheinconveniencethishascausedyouandIwanttosincerelyapologizefor-"

Blackbolt grasped Pietro’s shoulders and pulled him upright.  He gave him a reassuring squeeze before walking out of the room in search of ice cream.

"How was your mission?" he heard his daughter ask.

"Over," Pietro said with a simper as he sat at the edge of her bed.  "Do you want me to read you a story?"

"Yes, please!" Luna plucked a huge anthology from her nightstand.  She dropped it in his outstretched hands.

“‘The People Could Fly,’” he read out loud, turning over the cover and admiring the rich illustration of men and women soaring, un-tethered, through an endless, azure sky.

"Please read me the story of Br’er Rabbit falling down the well!  That’s my favorite!"

Pietro kicked off his shoes and scooted back on the bed.  Luna lay against him, her eyes bright as he found the story they were looking for.  He cleared his throat and began in a gentle, even tone:

"One day, Brer Rabbit and a lot of other animals decided to work together to plant a garden full of corn for roasting…"


	9. Snickerdoodles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cookies, Lorna Dane and her Team, Silliness. Douglas Ramsey is ruthless.

Lorna paused, her spatula mid-scrap as she cleared the skillet of their morning’s breakfast.

"So, what?" she asked, her eyebrow raised high. "You want a cookie, kid?"

Douglas pressed his lips shut, his eyes narrowing in contemplation as he dried their mugs with a kitten print dishtowel.

"Yes," he said firmly, setting Georgia’s "I Effin’ Love Pie" mug on the dish rack.  "I do."

"Excuse me?"

"Did I stutter?" Douglas replied, whipping the dish towel over his shoulder as he turned to his superior.  "I beat your butt in Scrabble last night with a smooth 258 point lead. I like my Snickerdoodles with bits of toffee in them, thanks."

"Well, look at you, Ramsey," Remy teased, ruffling the boy’s hair.  He brushed passed him to tip their plates into the sink.  "You got serious couilles talkin’ ta the boss like dat, cher."  Doug swatted his friend’s hand away.

"My name is Lorna Dane, not Lorna Doone," she chided, setting her dishes down.  Lorna folded her arms as she turned to stand nose-to-nose with her subordinate.  "I don’t manufacture cookies; I manufacture punches."

"Snickerdoodles. Sugar.  Butter.  Cinnamon.  Toffee bits," he returned cooly as he held slender fingers in her face for each ingredient. "And you can get the money from Remy because he still owes me twenty bucks from that time he dared me to eat three Ghost Peppers in a row."

"Dat was worth a trip to medical bay…" the Cajun muttered, fumbling in his back pocket for his wallet.

Lorna said nothing.  Keeping her eyes locked with Doug’s icy glare, she held out her hand and flexed her fingers.  Remy slipped a crisp bill into it.

"I’ll by the stuff, Ramsey," she hissed, her tone low, dangerous.  "But I ain’t bakin’ them.  My name ain’t Walt White.  I don’t cook nothing."

"Um…you just made us a pumpkin pancakes…" the men chorused.

"Whatever! I was trying to be cool and you ruined it!" she cried, tossing hands up and stalking off, her green hair swinging like cape behind her.  "I’ll ask Georgia to make them extra big so you’ll choke!"

"If you could spell ‘choke,’ you wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place!" Doug shouted after her.  He tossed the dish towel at Remy’s head and stomped off in the direction of his room.

Remy set the towel on the counter and resumed cleaning the dishes.

"Hope Georgia uses a little nutmeg," he murmured to himself.  "Maybe Remy make some chocolat chaud to go wit ‘em…”

Behind him, Pietro and Luna side-by-side quietly eating their breakfast at the table, watching quietly as the entire scene unfolded.

"Dad," she whispered with a frown, as her father poured a little more sweet cream and wild berries into her bowl. "You live with some weird people…"

"Idiots," he replied, kissing the top of her head before returning to the morning paper. "Daddy lives with idiots, Luna.  Now, please eat your oatmeal."


	10. Tap That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy asks Pietro to tap him.

Remy curled his finger in Pietro’s direction, as the speedster stood at the edge of the bed with arms crossed and a frown on his face.

"Allez, cher," he purred, eyes narrowing in mischief and mock licentiousness.  "Come lay here wit Remy fo’ a bit…" 

"No!" his partner snapped, stamping his foot childishly.  "You made fun of me for not knowing what ‘tapping that’ means."

"Oh, you still on dat, huh?" Remy murmured, smiling wide with a Cheshire’s grin. "Well, if it makes you feel better, you can tap me back…"

"I’d rather slap you."

"Don’t be like dat, now,"  cooed Remy, smoothing his hand across the space next to him on the bed.  "You know Remy only teasin’…" 

Pietro sighed, letting his arms fall to his side.

"Fine," he grunted.  "I’ll ‘tap’ you, all right.  I’ll ‘tap’ you until you can’t take it anymore!"

"Wonderful!" exclaimed the Cajun. "Get in here and Remy show you how he like it, cher…"

Pietro climbed onto the bed, letting his partner place him into a kneeling position.  Remy then lay on his back, resting his head comfortably in the valley between Pietro’s knees.

"Go ‘head," he said, beaming up at Pietro’s (now upside-down) scowling face as the speedster swept his hair out of his eyes.  "Just like earlier when we was on da couch together…"

"Are we really doing this?" Pietro seethed through tightly clenched teeth.  Remy’s slid closed as his partner began to tap a steady rhythm -thump, thumpthumpthump-thump-  in the center of his forehead.

The Cajun moaned theatrically, waggling his brows under his partner’s ministrations.  He curled his toes and rolled his shoulders against the bed.

"Ahhh~~! Dat’s nice," he groaned, running his pink tongue across plush lips.  "Tap me harder, cher… Harder…"

Pietro snorted.  He used all of his fingers, thrumming them quickly (but softly) on Remy’s still-smiling face. 

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump…

"Faster!" the Cajun commanded, arching his back and twisting his fists in the sheets.  "Give it to me!"

"Well, if you insist…" came Pietro reply.  The fingers ceased their thumping and fell away from his face.  Remy’s eyes fluttered but did not open.  His lips twitched in anticipation.  There was a small stretched of silence and then:

**WHAM!**

Pietro slapped Remy’s cheeks together, causing the Cajun’s teeth click together painfully.

Remy shot off the bed like a startled hare, clutching his battered face and uttering a steady stream of profanities in every language he knew.

"OW! WHAT IN THE HELL, PIETRO!"

"That’s what you get for being fresh," his partner said coolly.  "I looked up what it means to ‘tap someone’ on some depraved internet resource called ‘Urban Dictionary.’"  He sniffed, turning up his nose with a roll of his blue eyes.  "Lorna recommended it.  She said you need ‘help’ and I am inclined to agree!"

Remy growled as he rubbed his reddened cheeks.

"Oh, yeah," he challenged, climbing back onto the bed. He crawled toward Pietro - body mimicking a jungle cat’s - crowding the speedster against the headboard.  "How ‘bout Remy teach you a few of his favorites words, den…"

"Absolutely not!" Pietro cried. "I read _ever_ word on that site and it will be a cold day in Hell before I let you think give me a..a……a- a Mardi Grad Missile!”

Remy paused, blinking his dark eyes owlishly at his partner.  Pietro glared back at him, his expression a mixture of embarrassment and confusion. 

Then, the Cajun began to cackle, his laughter reverberating off the walls of their room.

"Mon D-dieu," he sputtered, wiping the tears streaming freely from his eyes with the heel of his hand.  "You really _did_ read that entire site!”

Pietro pouted.

"You’re a pervert."

"Ah, don’t be like that, cher."  Remy kissed a trail from Pietro’s hunched shoulder to his frowning lips. "Remy ne’er make you do nothin’ you don’t wanna do.  We just stick to what you like, if you want…"

Pietro’s glared softened slightly.  He sighed and pressed his lips against Remy’s.  His finger threaded through his auburn lock as he drew them closer.

"I’m only minimally sorry I slapped you," the speedster said, breaking their kiss; his tone and expression fell somewhere between apologetic and feigned apathy.

"Like I said ta ya sister when she popped Remy in his mouf," the Cajun returned, with a small smile. "If you gonna slap a guy, you gotta commit."

Pietro rolled his eyes as they leaned in for another kiss.  Just as Remy’s lips brushed against his own, the speedster’s hand shot up and caught the Cajun by his chin.

Remy grunted as Pietro tilted his head back, the pads of his thin fingers slightly digging into his still sensitive jaw.

"Remy," Pietro said slowly, pulling back to look his partner in his face, eyes narrowing.  "What did Lorna have to slap you for?"


	11. Snow Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luna's first real snow day.

Figaro mewled as Luna's arms tightened around his middle.  Snow trickled down from plump clouds crowding a mauve night sky, blanketing Serval's campus in white.

"It's snowing, Fig," she whispered.  "You want to play outside with me?" 

Figaro turned his head upward, his yellow eyes seeking her own.  

"Mrow," he replied, swishing his tail against her nightgown.

"I guess that's a 'yes' then.  Let's go!" 

Luna set Figaro down.  They sprinted from their post by the common room window, cutting through the kitchenette toward the bedrooms.

The girl skidded to a stop at the third door causing Figaro to bump into her legs.   Luna took a deep breath and knocked several times.  

After a minute, the door slid back, revealing a bedraggled Remy staring down at the two through half-closed eyes.

"Wasmattah?" he mumbled, tugging on the waistband of his pajama pants. "E'erything alright?"

"It's snowing!" Luna half-shouted, pushing past him as she and Figaro made their way over to the bed.  Remy yawned and padded after her.

Lucifer and Oliver purred contentedly as they rested on top of a snoring lump beneath the duvet.  It snored steadily, rising and falling with each sleepy breath. 

"Dad!" she cried, addressing the slumberin mass huddled beneath the duvet.  "Dad, look outside!"

Figaro leaped up onto bed, pressing his paws against the duvet until the lumps shifted, groaned.  The blankets peeled back, layer-by-layer until her father's silvered-head poked out from the confines of their makeshift nest.

"Lu, we were still sleeping," Pietro muttered groggily as he grabbed at the clock on his nightstand.  "It's 4:30 in the morning...  What's wrong?"

"It's just snow, cher," Remy mumbled, peaking through the curtain.  "Everything's covered up..."

"Can we go outside?"

"Remy goin' back to bed," the Cajun grumbled, staggering away from the window.  "Too early for all this."  He shuffled passed the girl, diving under the blankets crawling over Pietro to his side of the bed.  The cats yowled and swat at the Remy-shaped lump, as he knocked them fr.

"Be careful," the speedster hissed.  Then, more softly, he said to his daughter: "Luna, we'll go out.  I just need a little more-"

"Please, Dad?" she pleaded, her eyes wide and shining.  "We don't have snow on the moon and the last time I saw snow, I was just a little baby and-"

Luna felt a rush of air.  The scent of mint flitted past her nose.  She turned and saw her father brushing his teeth and already half dressed.  She blinked and saw him running a razor along his chin.

"Ok," he replied, the razor now replaced with a towel as he pat his face dry.  "We'll make breakfast, finish dressing and go."  Pietro held out his hand and Luna took it.  He could feel her excitement radiating from her touch as the walk out - Figaro galloping after them.

" _And_ let Remy get some sleep..." his partner grumbled after them.

~~~

"What all dis?" Remy asked, scratched his chest as he sauntered into the kitchenette with his cats perched on his robe-clad shoulders.  He sniffed at the scent of cinnamon and syrup that wafted heavily in the air.  In the center of the table was a large stack of french toast and a pile of bacon that Georgia and Douglas tried to make quick work of it.  Lorna helped her self, piling several slices onto her own plate before drizzling thick ribbons of syrup on top of them.

"Breakfast," Lorna replied without looking up before her lips snapped shut around a forkful of french toast.  She chewed thoughtfully, her syrupy lips drawing themselves up into a satisfied simper.  "Pietro can be useful when he wants to be..."

Remy slipped into the seat next to her and helped himself.  He broke up some bacon into three pieces, giving one to Lucifer, Oliver, and Figaro.  They devoured them instantly, licking at the salt lingering on their whiskers. 

"Pietro really wanted to celebrate Luna's first _real_ snow day!" Georgia chimed-in between bites.

"And we're gonna go out too," Doug added.  He reached down and handed the cats more bacon.  "You should come too.  Bring your fur-kids."

"Alright," Remy replied.  "Sounds like a plan."  

~~~

The sounds of shouting and screams echoed across in the quiet of the main lawn.  Georgia managed to hit Danger square in the face with a snowball before the robot could fire off her own. 

"You will regret that," Danger seethed.  Georgia squealed, taking refuge behind Warlock.

"Protect me, Lockie!" she shouted.

"No harm will come to you, self-friend Georgia!" Warlock declared.  He raised his arms and formed his hands into a shield just as android's barrage landed. 

"You should worry about yourself!" Doug shouted, pelting his friend's back.  Georgia leapt in front of the Technarch, letting the snowballs hit her in her stomach. 

"Warlock," she whispered dramatically, adding a pained cough for effect, as Warlock leaned over her.   "I am so sorry..."   Figaro trotted over and climbed onto her front.  He began licking her nose, causing the girl to laugh.  "Damn it, Fig!  You ruined it!"

"Self-friend Doug!" the Technarch cried with equal enthusiasm.  "How could you?!  Self will have self's revenge!"  He cupped his hands together as the shifted into something resembling a plow.  He scooped up a huge pile of snow and up-ended it onto Douglas as he tried to flee.

Danger chuckled.

"Guys!" Lorna called from across the yard, slapping her snowy hands on her pant leg. "Dig Douglas out before he dies _again_!"  She returned to her work and draped some leftover Easter grass over her snowman's head.  She glanced down at Remy, who sat in the snow, his cats draped across his broad shoulders like scarf.

He rolled tiny balls of snow, piling them into something resembling a spire.

"What's that?" Lorna asked.

"Croquembouche," the Cajun replied quietly.  "Thinkin' 'bout makin' some later just for the Hell of it..."  He sighed, his breath spilling from his frowning lips dragon's breath.  Lorna grimaced.

"Home sick?" she asked, patting more snow onto her creation.

"Too cold," he mumbled, adding another sphere to his growing spire.  "Don't know how you Northerners do dis e'ery year."

The sounds of snowball fight filling their sudden stretch of silence.

"Tada!" Lorna declared, waving her hands  "Snowwoman Polaris is complete!  What do you think?"  The Cajun climbed to his feet and stalked over.

"Hold on a sec," Remy muttered, cupping his chin with gloved fingers as he assessed her work.  It wasn't anything out of the ordinary - a simple snowman with some plastic grass hanging from the top of its rotund head.  Lorna had used some candies for her eyes and her smile.  Two branches were used her for her arms as they reached wide as if to welcome an embrace from passers-by.  Remy hummed and said, "It a little off."  Carefully, he scooped out several handfuls from the snowman's sides and molded them to its front.  His gloved hands fell away, leaving two exaggerated lumps.

Lorna glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Do we have to take a trip to HR, Mr. LeBeau?" she hissed, kicking snow onto his legs.

"Hey!  At least it look more like you now, chère!" 

"Woah!" the heard Georgia shout from across the yard.  "Look!"   Remy and Lorna followed her awe-struck gaze over their shoulders, to where Pietro and Luna were putting the finishing touches on their life-sized snow sculpture of the entire X-Factor team.  Luna sat on her father's shoulders, carefully carving out the markings on Danger's stoic face.

"Show offs," Lorna groused, nudging her brother in his side, as they gathered round them.  "But there _are_ awesome..."

"How lovely!" Linda called out.  They looked and saw hopping across the yard towards them - her polka-dotted boots kicking up snow.  "I say we take a picture of this for Serval's homepage!  After all, I am Head of Promotions-"

'-amongst another things," Douglas muttered underneath his breath as the woman fished out a camera from her jacket pocket.  Georgia slapped him on his back.

"Be nice," she whispered.  

They knelt in the snow - huddled together in front of their snowy doppelgangers.

"Everyone say, 'Cheese!'" Linda said cheerfully as she held the camera out in front of her.

"Cheese!"

 ~~~

Crystal's fingers lingered on the tablet screen.  Pietro and Luna knelt, cheek-to-cheek, along with the rest of their friends.  She blinked, dabbing at the corner of her eyes with soft ridge of her knuckles.  She swiped left, only to find more images of Serval's coveted corporate superhero team having a snowball fight on the main campus.  They enjoyed hot drinks and sugary pastries in the next.  Another had Luna playing with several cats that -per her brief conversations with her daughter- belonged to Pietro's new beau.

"Luna looks like she's enjoying life on Earth."

Crystal looked up as red tendrils surrounded her.  Gently, the lifted the tablet and set it aside.  Medusa slid onto the sofa next to her, her hair falling away and replaced with an embrace.  Crystal cupped her hands over her mouth as her breath hitched.  She felt a wave of heat washed over her as she began to shake. 

"I want her here with me," she sobbed.  "But..but I..."

"She's always loved her father so much," her sister said softly.  "And they've been apart for so long."

Crystal wiped her face with the back of a shaky hand.

"You sound like you've forgiven him."

"Not completely," Medusa replied, hair fluttering slightly.  "I understand your former husband was not in his right mind, but that won't undo the damage done."

"Then, why did you convince Black Bolt to let Luna stay?"

"Because, children should be with their parents, if the parents are worthy."

"You...you think him worthy?"  Crystal asked, her red-rimmed eyes wide.  Medusa's arms fell away.  She sat back against the sofa and sigh. 

"Pietro," she began slowly, threading her long fingers together.  "...has proven his worth at great risk to his reputation, his safety, to losing you both when he told the truth.  He's trying to make amends.  If not for himself, then definitely for Luna's sake."

Crystal said nothing, scrubbing at her blotchy cheeks.  She picked up the tablet and its screen flickered to life. 

Father and daughter smiled back at her with ruddy noses and snow streaked hair. 

"I don't care about what Pietro wants anymore," she muttered.  "I want my daughter back."

 

 

 


	12. Inevitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Douglas comes back from the dead and absolutely is pissed about it.

Georgia wrapped a ribbon around a small bouquet of marigolds.  She dropped them into a simple vase and placed them on the kitchen table. As she turned to leave, she nearly ran face first into a muddy mass that quietly dripping on their freshly mopped floor. Georgia jumped back.

"D-Douglas?" she asked as she got a better look.  "W-what in the..."

The omniglot was caked in mud from head-to-toe; leaves and bits of grass clung to his waterlogged hair and uniform.

"Where are they?"

Georgia winched.  Douglas' voice was like a the edge of a knife, scrapping against a whetstone. 

"W-who...?" she asked, her own voice quavering slightly as the young man drew closer.  The counter dug into the small of her back as she back away.

"Remy.  Pietro," he hissed, their names seeping from between his clenched teeth.  "Where are they?"

"O-On the terrace with Lorna!" Georgia cried.   "They are eating the pie I just made for them and-"

Douglas snarled and stalked away.  He swung at the vase on the table as he past, sending it crashing to the floor.  Both glass and petals crunched underfoot as Douglas stomped his way to the terrace doors and the girl chased after him.

He threw them open.  They banged against the wall, curtains tossing in a passing gust of wind.

"YOU!" Douglas bellowed as he approached the patio table.

The pie-eaters looked up, their forks hanging from their mouths, crumbs resting on their chins and lips.

"Oh...oh, my God!" Lorna exclaimed, her fork clattered onto her plate at the sight of him.  "W-what in God's name happened to you??!"

"THESE TWO HAPPENED TO ME!" he screeched at her, flecks of spit flying from his snarling mouth.

Remy and Pietro exchanged looks.

"Honestly, there is no need for all of these theatrics," Pietro sighed, pushing away his now empty plate.  "It was an accident."

"What? What accident?" his sister asked, her eyes darting back and forth between her brother and Remy.  The speedster sighed.

"They pushed me out of the common room window and buried me in the yard, Lorna!"

"Why would you do such a thing?!" Georgia gasped.

"You two _killed_ Doug?!" hollered Lorna.  She leapt to her feet and slammed her hands down onto the table.  "You two murdered Douglas and then just buried him in the yard?!"

"'Murdered' is too harsh a word, chère," Remy drawled, twirling his fork between his fingers with unnecessary flourish.  He took several bites of his dessert before continuing:  "Mo' like, accidentally made him 'deceased.'"

"Remy was being infuriating as usual," Pietro explained, plucking his napkin from his lap and tossing it onto the table.  "I simply took it upon my himself to correct his irksome behavior by throwing one of his mangy beasts at him.  It's not _my_ fault you - Douglas - decided to walk past us - between us - at that very moment-"

"-or dat dat window was open all big and wide-"

"-or that said mangy beast would hit you in your face, causing the both of you to tumble out of said window for two stories and into a literal hole in the ground."

"And after I got Figaro back," Remy paused, narrowing his red eyes at Pietro who simply scoffed. "We just saw that you weren't moving much-"

"- or breathing -"

"-and dere was a lot o' blood.  So..."  The Cajun waved his hand dismissively.

"Why didn't you just get help?" Lorna asked.

"Honestly, fille, we die and come back all da time.  Remy was literally Death himself and he come back.  Pietro's damn daddy done mashed his ass up like sweet potato and his sister brought him back wit her mutant voodoo.  Y'all worry too much 'bout nothin'."

"But that doesn't explain why you two had to be callous about it!" Douglas yelled, stamping his foot. 

"Did you not just listen to what this backwater, bayou-dwelling, country bumpkin just said?" Pietro countered, folding his lanky arms across his chest.  "Death has no authority in this world.  And you, Douglas, are a textbook case of that truth.  We knew you would be back.  Why make a big fuss about it like you are doing right now?"

The omniglot said nothing, his eyes wide with shock.

Douglas reached out, his fingers resting on the side of a pitcher full of orange juice.  Slowly, he picked it up and dumped it over the Cajun's head.  Remy nodded, lips sputtering.

"I deserved that," he said.

"Just let it happen, Pietro," Lorna sighed as the speedster made to leave.  "You exceeded your usual level of dickish-ness.  The least you can do is let Doug take you down a peg." 

Her brother rolled his eyes and sat back down.

Douglas stuck his finger in the middle of his pie slice; a ring of mud settling atop its golden crust as he pushed deeper and deeper.  He then took it in his hand and mashed it into the speedster's face.

He wiped his hand clean on Pietro's shirt before turning on his heel and stomping back into the suite.

"You two are the worst," Lorna mumbled, snatching up the pie plate and her fork.  "Clean this up."

 


End file.
